The Final Solution

"Let's get straight to the point, President Yanaev." Secretary of State Igorberg knew the two men before him were cunning Kremlin veterans—monsters of political instinct who could see through any scheme at a glance. Endless back-and-forth would waste precious time. According to Russian custom, laying out terms openly might speed the process.

Yanaev slid a chair closer and sat with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You said, Secretary Igorberg, that if the conditions you propose are reasonable, we can continue talks. We are not unreasonable people, are we?"

Igorberg exhaled quietly, relieved. "We feel deeply guilty and uneasy over what happened to our ships in your Arctic Ocean. We hope this unfortunate incident won't harm the friendly cooperation between our countries..."

"Wait." Yanaev cut him off with a dismissive wave, frowning. "I only want to hear your conditions. No more empty words."

"For damages caused by your submarine, we will cover all rescue and accommodation expenses for the soldiers—down to the last penny. But we also have conditions: if your soldiers are returned swiftly, our rescue ships will be allowed to enter the Arctic to salvage the Baton Rouge nuclear submarine. What are your conditions?"

Igorberg thought his offer was fair and appealing. But Yanaev merely smiled and shook his head. "Do you take me for a child? How could you present such terms?"

Igorberg blinked, surprised by the rejection. "If you are not satisfied, President Yanaev, please state your terms. Everything can be negotiated."

"Chechnya." Yanaev named a place unrelated to the Arctic incident.

Igorberg frowned. "Chechnya? I thought we were discussing the Arctic incident."

"Beyond your conditions, you must order your NATO allies to cease aiding the Chechens. Otherwise, not only will your rescue ships be barred from our waters, but those hundreds of sailors will not return. Don't try to deceive me, Secretary Igorberg. The Soviet Union's intelligence network is among the best—I know all you've done."

Though the Chechen War had ended, U.S. interference persisted—secret weapons still flowed into Chechnya daily, fueling guerrilla resistance against Soviet forces.

"As for the rescue, it will be unilateral. No American rescue ship will set foot on our soil. That is my condition—non-negotiable."

Igorberg adjusted his glasses, embarrassed. "I will report your demands to our president. I lack the authority to decide."

"The Kremlin's hotline connects directly to Washington. Secretary Igorberg, call if you doubt." Yanayev's thoughts drifted to Bush's anxious face; the U.S. president was surely scrambling to manage the political fallout and save his seat in the next election.

Igorberg used the hotline to reach the White House, quietly relaying the Soviet conditions and asking for guidance.

"What should we do?" Bush replied with frustration. "Of course, we caused it. Now the Soviets hold leverage. Thank God it's only one leak—another, and Congress might impeach me. Secretary Igorberg, understand—we're on the back foot. If they don't push too far, we can manage."

"Is this really acceptable?" Igorberg felt the Soviets' demands were harsh.

"You're responsible for this. Handle it well. The whole nation watches the fate of those officers and soldiers. If any are lost, you and I both resign!" Bush snapped, then hung up, slumping at his desk. Without the leak, the U.S. might have negotiated better, but public opinion had shifted the advantage.

Returning to the table, Igorberg told Yanaev, "I accept all your conditions, but there is one request—let me bring our soldiers home as soon as possible."

Yanaev feigned reluctance but inwardly rejoiced. He sighed. "Secretary Igorberg, it's not that we refuse to return your soldiers. Removing patients from isolation is risky for both sides."

"We Americans will handle it, Your Excellency. We've accepted all your demands; it's time to return our soldiers," Igorberg insisted.

"Of course—once I receive intelligence confirming your arms aid to Chechnya has ceased and diplomatic ties severed. By the way, payment has been transferred to the account we designated." Yanayev's smile was sly, foxlike. "We will release them immediately."

Igorberg, no longer in a mood to argue, nodded flatly. "Very well. I hope President Yanaev keeps his word. Americans deal only with credible nations."

"Of course," Yanayev said, extending his hand with a meaningful smile. "I hope for pleasant cooperation."

Igorberg shook it silently, but inside he seethed. He had never encountered a Soviet leader so cunning, shameless, mercenary, and calculating. The United States, which prided itself on outmaneuvering the world, had been outplayed for the first time.

"This is the first time we're strong enough to afford defeat," Igorberg sneered inwardly. "But you, the Soviet Union, teeter on economic collapse. I wonder if President Yanaev can afford defeat next time."